


Now That We're Alone...

by listlessinvitation



Category: Bandom, Heavy metal - Fandom, Metallica, Thrash Metal - Fandom, band - Fandom, bands - Fandom, metal - Fandom
Genre: Here we go, M/M, Metallica - Freeform, Not really tbh, Porn With Plot, i dont know im braindead, i shouldve looked that up, is there a ship name for james and lars, just gay tingz, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 03:20:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21190715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/listlessinvitation/pseuds/listlessinvitation
Summary: James and Lars have a little alone time while the others go out to drink.(1989; pretty girl and cowardly lion.)





	Now That We're Alone...

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aati3_6lDhE  
my dick hurrrrt // cowardly lion

Kirk and Jason chattered feverishly about their plans to go out and get absolutely wasted to celebrate their one month anniversary. Each little coo and gush at one another earned teasing reactions from Lars and James, as if the two of them had any room to talk. Hidden deep under the walls James had built up since Cliff's death, and deep beneath Lars' flirty "I don't care about anything or anyone but myself" attitude, there were — surprise — feelings. Feelings such as an intense longing for each other, any time they're apart, even if James keeps up the facade of Lars being a consistent pain in his ass. There's love there. Somewhere.

...Somewhere underneath all the lust.

Knowing glances were shot across the room as the slam of the front door echoed through the apartment. Finally. Alone together. James held eye contact with Lars for a long moment before he turned his back to him and made his way into the kitchen. He wouldn't say a word to the other for the next hour or two, only a grunt here and there if the Dane were to pop in and ask him something. Hands worked tirelessly as he prepared dinner for just the two of them, his mind wandering on occasion as to what the night may entail. Hetfield was dragged away from these thoughts when he heard a snicker coming from the doorway. His head swiveled over his shoulder as far as he could, seeing Lars eyeing him up.

"What?"

"Nothin', you just look like a pansy with that apron on."

"Gee, thanks," the response was muttered as James returned to stirring.

"No problem, fej løve."

Ulrich sauntered further into the room, only to drape his smaller frame against James' much taller, sturdier built one. He ignored the other's grumbling about not understanding his Danish, kneading the palms of his hands into his hips. He could feel Hetfield relax with the touch, but tense up as his hands moved higher. A soft mutter of "watch it, I'm cooking," was uttered; hands paused only for a moment or two before climbing higher, riding under his shirt to touch warm skin. He could tell James was holding back, but he wouldn't be for long.  
  
"Relax, Het. You think I'm gonna rip your tit off or somethin'?"  
  
Snarky voice piped up, resulting in a low growl from deep in James' throat.   
  
"Knock it off, I'm cooking."   
  
Tone was sharp, with the usual frustrated bite to it. Lars sighed and pulled himself away. Always. Always, always, always. He pushed too hard, too fast, and it got James worked up in the wrong way. Even when they were alone. He left the room, in turn stranding James with his own thoughts. He began beating himself up for being too hard on the brunette. Christ, they were both so idiotic.   
  
Within another half hour, their food was ready. Hetfield set the table for two across from each other before yelling through the small halls that dinner was ready. Lars all but bolted to his designated chair, nearly falling into the table. He adored James cooking, and he knew the other was aware of that. Walking past the seated Dane, Het pushed his chair in carefully so he'd be able to get to the fridge. Two bottles of beer and a single apple were haphazardly yanked out, apple being set beside Lars' plate as James removed bottle caps. They clinked their bottles before James seated himself, and the two ate in silence for a time being. Finally, the silence was broken by a long, loud burp.... which sent Ulrich into a laughing fit so intense it brought tears to his eyes.   
  
"H-holy fuck," he choked out, rubbing his eyes with the ball of his hands. "How'd ya manage that one, mothafucker?"  
  
This response only earned a chuckle from James, who continued to eat his food, but now with a smile slowly splitting across his face. They finished up their meals in a much better mood, wrapped the food carefully, refrigerating it while dumping the dirty dishes into the sink. Testing his limit, Lars took James by the hand and began to lead him to the couch. He followed loosely, fingers intertwining as he sat down beside him on the couch. Within moments of the television being turned on to drown them out, they began to kiss. Every time, James seemed nervous, with Lars leading him along. He knew how deep down, the big guy was just a softy. It was cute, really; how shy James was about hurting him when they were alone.   
  
Each kiss that began to trail from Hetfield's lips — then jaw and neck — was placed gingerly and with very obvious affection. Maybe not obvious to anyone who looked, but obvious to James. The gentle hand cupping his face, thumb caressing circles over his jaw, and the fact he was so careful to even out his weight as he kneeled over the other's lap. As his breath picked up, due to the warmth of Lars' breath and mouth on his neck, and his own hands thumbing at his sensitive nipples. It was making the Dane mewl, and eventually fed up. They simultaneously began to tear at each other's clothes, fumbling with pant buttons, tugging their shirts over their heads, and kicking their pants down to their feet.   
  
Lips firmly crashed together, built up passion having hit its boiling point. Their tongues fought for dominance, Lars' slowly but surely being taken over. He submitted with unsurprising ease when James let out a low growl, and he allowed his big, rough hands to have full reign of his body. Breaking their heated kisses, James' lips latched onto his throat, tongue swirling over his adam's apple as the Dane swallowed thickly.   
  
"Gud pokker... åh fanden, James-"  
  
His head fell back as he panted, harder than he had when they first broke their kiss. James hands slid down to squeeze his muscular, yet still soft, legs. Rough palms caressed and kneaded at the sensitive, burning flesh of his inner thighs. Lars could barely make a sound at this point, anything leaving his mouth mainly gasps. When he was finally able to spit something out again, it was a simple "vær venlig". How cute. Who was the sensitive little butterfly now? Just begging James with a pathetic "please". The dumb fuck couldn't even remember how to speak a lick of English at this point.  
  
To say that he was prepped enough for James was an understatement. He never really was, even when James took special care. Did that matter right now? No. They'd fooled around last night, so while he was more under-prepped than usual, it didn't cross Hetfield's mind for a second to give him any special treatment right now. Firm hands gripped his bubble butt, lifting him up only enough to get his hole to the tip of his member. Without a second of hesitation, the smaller male was forced down. It earned a low howl of mixed pain and pleasure, which dissolved into soft sobs and whimpers against the blond's shoulder. A minute or two passed, and these seconds passing by would be Lars' only time to adjust to the feeling of the throbbing erection now buried inside him.   
  
"Vær venlig James, mere..."  
  
Came another soft beg from the Dane, but the plea wasn't answered. Hand came up to brush a thumb over Lars' bottom lip, a low throaty chuckle leaving James as it was taken into the pouty lipped mouth as eagerly as if it was his knob. "That's it," the words were spoken slowly, the rest of James' fingers moving to now cup under his chin, forcing him to continue sucking on his thumb. As he did this, his hips shifted beneath him, involuntarily thrusting up roughly into the pale arse seated on him. It earned a squeal and a bit of a bite around his thumb, but other than that he took it surprisingly well.   
  
These irregular thrusts went on for a while, Hetfield's only desire to make the younger cry out and writhe in pleasure, but never enough to satisfy. After several more pleas from the other, he gave in. Their positions were flipped in an instant, Lars now pinned by his throat to the couch, wrists pinned above his head, and James' hips fervently ramming into him as rough and fast as he could manage. He leaned down to kiss him hard and passionately, his body pressing over Lars' eventually forcing his small body into the stereotypical breeding position. The sound of their sweaty skin smacking together made the most erotic sound; well, maybe not as lewd as the Danish cursing and crying for more.   
  
Thrusts became more and more erratic, a guttural moan of Ulrich's name escaping his lips as he came deep inside him with a final thrust. By this point, Lars had already came twice, strings of cum spattered on his and James' lower stomachs. Determined to milk him for all he's worth, Hetfield rode out his orgasm by rolling his hips into him, and he reached down to slowly stroke his small shaft. He made sure to pay special attention to his slit with the tip of his thumb.  
  
"Come on baby, cum for me one more time." He leaned over him, towering even, to purr this in his ear. "Don't you wanna be a good boy? You should be thankful I gave you my cock to begin with." That got him good. Another couple ropes of cum spurted from his bright pink, throbbing member. Cooing out praises, James lips met his more gentle than they had before. He slid himself out of the other's arse, scooping him up to gingerly carry him to the bathroom. Lars ran his fingers over his facial hair lazily, hand running into his long locks to tug playfully. He was tired now, and his body would soon be ravaged with soreness.  
  
It was time for some major after care.


End file.
